


Little lion man

by Bea_The_Cat123



Category: Jojo Rabbit (2019)
Genre: I’m mean to Finkel hooray, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bea_The_Cat123/pseuds/Bea_The_Cat123
Summary: Finkel gets a low ranking in a race.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Little lion man

Finkel’s least favorite activity was running. 

Sure, at some points, it could become at least a rhythmic slog, his feet hitting the patchy dirt path as he could think of a random song in his head, but most of the time it was just torture. His lungs ached from the misty air, his thighs and shins seemed to squeeze at his muscles, like his skin couldn’t contain the weight of his legs. His arms pumped up, down, up, down. 

Almost to the finish line...almost there. 

The people around him, his peers and teachers, glared at him, their gaze piercing his skin. Only three other students behind him. 

He would not be last. 

He took as deep of a breath as he could, but the air seemed to sting down his throat, and he had to pause to cough. Hacks shook his body, and he could hear the wheeze of his breath in his ears. 

Rapid footsteps behind him. Almost done. 

He closed his eyes and picked himself up, his head dizzy and his mouth dry. 

“Fifteen minutes, Finkel,” the voice of his coach, Herr Alger, sounded disappointed. “21st place.” Finkel looked down from his panting, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “Go sit.” 

Finkel stared down at the dirt as he staggered his way to where the rest of his classmates were. Here and there, puddles from rain sat stagnant, the water murky and dirty. He directed his vision away, and gave a scoff at his mud-stained shoes. He desperately wanted to change out of them, put on something more clean, something that didn’t stink of sweat like the other students. 

He should’ve brought his mother’s perfume with him. He could’ve hidden it in his satchel. Just a little bit, on his neck. It would’ve lasted him all day. 

“Is he going to throw up again?” Finkel looked up to see multiple students staring at him. Saliva hit his shirt, and his face flushed red as he realized his mouth had been gaping open. He wiped away his drool, though to not much avail, as he burst into another fit of coughing, spitting onto the ground. A student quickly moved away from him as he sat down, his lungs still heaving. He rubbed his eyes, and tried to slow his breathing. His heart made him feel as though he was surrounded by bees, constantly buzzing in his head, stinging at his legs, in his throat. 

“I think he’s sick,” he heard a student whisper behind him. 

“He’s not, my pa’s his doctor.”

“Was his doctor, you mean. Son of a bitch is getting French nuns now.”

“Shut up!”

Dr. Engelhardt had been seeing Finkel since he was a baby. The doctor was in the papers for rescuing him at birth; practically every doctor at the hospital knew who Freddy Finkel was. The “Little Miracle Baby,” as they called him. 

No one really knew why he would cough so much after running, or why he’d always squint a little, or why he never seemed to completely understand what adults were saying. But Finkel wanted to believe there was the probability of finding the answers to these questions one day. An answer why he had to take bitter vitamins every day, and to why he had no skill at running but also got cold way too easily in the winter. 

“That’s all, dismissed,” Herr Alger said, and a muffle of students talking and walking out of the field filled Finkel’s ears. He sighed, finally feeling his body sink into the bench, as he ran his fingers through his sticky hair. The cloud coverage made the time of day unclear, but either way, he didn’t want to get up. Vanessa could walk Alice home. (Alice should’ve known her way home at this point, being 12 and all). He wasn’t always going to be there anyways. 

He gave another, louder sigh, and slowed his breathing. He needed water. He turned around to see a couple of boys crowded around the one of the little wooden benches, where a couple of canteens sat. One wasn’t being used, from what Finkel could tell.

His legs protested, but soon he was able to wobble up, sticking out his arms for balance. 

He heard a chuckle behind him. His throat burned. His legs felt like wet clay, wanting to stick to the ground and mud and cement him in one place. But his mouth scratched, and he could feel more coughs rise in his throat. 

The muttering got louder between the teens as Finkel approached, but the buzzing in his head made it impossible to figure out what they were saying. 

His hand clumsily reached for the canteen. He could go home, away from all the running and mud and he could sleep...

“What the hell are you doing?” A large hand, sticky with sweat, grabbed Finkel’s wrist. His face morphed from a scowl to a smirk in a matter of seconds as he looked Finkel up and down. “Oh, it’s just Freddy.” His grip tightened as he turned out Finkel’s wrist. “You know you’re reaching for my water, right?” 

“I...no,” Finkel couldn’t lie. He was too tired. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, thought so,” the boy said. He was only a little taller than Finkel, but he seemed to be towering over him. “You’re always slow.” The teens laughed. Finkel tried to pull his hand away, but the teen did not let go. “Those French pricks are gonna kill you like  that  if you can’t keep up.” 

“Not like he’d be missed much,” another boy said, coming from behind Finkel. Finkel could feel his dry hands grab the scruff of his sweat through shirt. “What’re you going to give the Kaiser besides the flu?”

More laughter, like hounds in Finkel’s head, running and biting at him. 

“Maybe he can be the bait,” another said, digging a cigarette out of a satchel. “We sneak over to Paris and ‘little miracle Freddy’ can be the first one caught!” Finkel was pulled back, caught like a fly in the web of the two boys. He was too tired to wriggle out of the mist and the sweat and the aching of his body. 

“He’d probably get shot by the French!” The boy’s grip on his wrist never loosened, and he shook Finkel’s wrist to see his hand flop about. “‘This camp is too dirty! You all smell terrible, and don’t get me started on your uniforms!’” Peels of laughter. “‘Do you have any venison? I refuse to eat slop like the rest of you!’ They’d get so annoyed, then...” the boy put a finger to his head. “Bang!”

“Maybe war would be good for him! Toughen him up a bit,” the teen behind him spoke, his foul hot breath close to his ear. “If that’s even possible.”

“No,” the student said. Finkel’s hand tingled, turning bright red from the teens grasp. His eyes stung, and his entire body seemed to burn with a fire that surged in his veins. “I bet it’s not.” He leaned in to look Finkel right in the eyes. “Raised by a bunch of pussies, what are you going to expect?” Finkel hoped they couldn’t see the tears welling in his blue eyes, ceasing the pain for flashes of a second. “Might as well stop carrying your ass everywhere. We’re the ones going to win the war, while bitches like you will be stuck cleaning my boots.”

The fire rose in his throat, and before Finkel knew it, he had spit directly in the face of the teenager. He panted, feeling more spit dribble down his chin (or was that the water from his eyes?), and he narrowed his eyebrows. He was wheezing loudly, but the moment seemed to pause, as all the students stood frozen around him. The grip around his wrist loosened a bit as the teen reeled back, wiping off his face. His eyes focused on Finkel, like a wolf on its prey. 

“You want a drink?” He growled. His thick hands shoved Finkel back fast, and Finkel staggered and tripped, twisting himself not land on his back, but instead he got a face full of mud. He was frozen, frozen from adrenaline and shock and disgust, before pain shot through his spine as he received a kick to his back. He let out a pitiful shriek of fear, as another kick landed on his side, and one kicked up mud dangerously close to his face. There was a twisting sound before feeling a splash of lukewarm water run down his back, followed by gruff laughter. 

“Come on, Freddy, get up,” one of the boys said. “Or are you as weak as the rest of your family?”

“Good for nothing whores.”

“Get up, Freddy!!” A hand pulled at Finkel’s hair, but he quickly swatted it away, placing his hands over his ears and feeling his face burn and burn. He curled in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. The teens around him seemed to tower over him. He shook violently, feeling more coughs escape him mouth and throat.He spat out the dirt that got into his mouth. 

But he couldn’t face them. They’d have to leave eventually.

And they did. It seemed to take an eternity, but soon, they finally quit standing around Finkel, and left the field. 

Finkel finally uncovered his ears, and rolled off his stomach, trying to find a dry spot of the ground. He slowly started to sit himself up, his legs stiff and his back sending sharp pains throughout his body. He looked down; his shirt and hands were covered in mud. It caked his skin and pants, it itched under his nails, it soaked his shirt. Bile seemed to rise in his throat, and his mouth twisted into a horrible, disgusted frown. He smelt of sweat and dirt and fog and salt, the tears already squeezing at his skin. 

He let out a whimpering sigh. He slowly pushed himself up, trying not to slip. When he finally stood, he stared down at his shoes, halfway submerged in the brown muck. 

He pulled at them, and they sucked out, and Finkel, once he was free, rushed the best he could to the side of the field, surrounded by trees, and followed the lights of the city to sneak his way back home. He walked and staggered, drawing in on himself so no one would notice his disgusting presence. 

He would never come close to last place. 

To be in the middle was to be overlooked. 

**Author's Note:**

> More angst from me. Nazis who look at this die instantly and painfully. Fuck off!
> 
> Also JoJo Rabbit is my favorite movie and I love it a lot


End file.
